Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
“That guy is a frog’s hair away from prison, Olivia,” Mom warns. “I told you to stay away from him.”
My sister rolls her eyes hard and goes back to her phone.
Grabbing the stack of plates from the counter, I move to set the table. It’s the least I can do since the cooking’s well in hand. Placing a plate beside Olivia, I can see that she’s flipping through Instagram pictures of a bunch of teenagers at a pool. “Who’s Axel?” I ask quietly.
“A delinquent, apparently,” she answers dryly. When she sees that I’m glancing at the pictures, she shuts the phone off and sets it face-down on the table. “Ever heard of invasion of privacy?”
She shoots me a look of disdain, and if looks could kill, I’d be six feet under already.
“Sorry,” I apologize, though I’m not really sorry considering what I just saw. “Is he as bad as Mom says? Surely, he’s not even old enough to go to prison. Juvie, maybe.” I’m trying to make it a light thing, but I’m curious because the guy I saw in the pictures was shotgunning a beer and had tattoos on his neck and chest. I don’t care about the tattoos other than knowing you have to be over eighteen to get one, but I definitely care about the beer because my sister is sixteen.
“He’s nineteen,” she sneers as if that’s a good thing.
I’m on Mom’s side, one thousand percent. There’s only one reason nineteen-year-old men flirt with sixteen-year-old girls . . . and my sister deserves better.
“Olivia! Are you for real?” I stare in open-mouthed shock at her, but she glares back like she’s being completely reasonable and I’m the overreactor. “Let me guess, he says you’re ‘mature’, ‘not like other girls’, and you shouldn’t listen to Mom because she doesn’t understand you like he does? It’s like a damn script with these guys.”
I didn’t realize how loud I’d gotten, but Mom and Marvin have gone silent, just watching us. “I’m gonna throw these on the grill,” Marvin says, giving us some privacy. “Be out back.”
When it’s the three of us, Mom says, “I tried to tell her, but nobody wants to hear negative stuff about someone they like.”
I don’t think we’re only talking about Axel anymore.
Mom is constantly having to adjust Olivia’s expectations—about Dad, and now, about Axel.
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Olivia says, lashing out. “Roni posted that they’re dating now. Thanks, Mom, bombing relationships left and right, aren’t ya? You and Dad, me and Axel. It’s only a matter of time for you and Marvin.”
I see the sharp pain in Mom’s eyes. She usually shutters it behind maternal care, but I think my sister’s pushed too far this time.
“That’s enough, Olivia,” Mom snaps. “I’m done apologizing for the divorce. I did everything I could for as long as I could, damn near killing myself in a misguided attempt to be what your father wanted. But I was never gonna be younger, blonde, and look up to him like he’s some sort of god when I’d spent the last twenty years making his dinner, picking up his dirty towels off the bathroom floor, and nagging him to do the bare minimum for you girls. Let’s be real, he hadn’t so much as bought his own underwear or poured a bowl of cereal since he was in college. And he sure as hell didn’t remember your birthdays or plan a single family vacation. All those childhood memories you want to replay like he did something?”
Tears are flowing down Mom’s cheeks steadily as she says, “I did it . . . for him, for you, for Samantha. And if you can’t see that, I’m sorry. But I deserve to be happy, and now, I am.”
Mom points at the back door, where Marvin stepped out to the porch. “With a man who’s nothing like your father. Marvin wants to be my partner, wants to take care of me when I need it and appreciates it when I take care of him. He makes me laugh, cares if I had a good day, and understands that I’m a little messed up after everything I’ve been through and gives me space to have a freak-out in the middle of a nice family lunch!”
The last bit borders on hysterical, but mostly, I’m so fucking proud of Mom. She’s been stuffing down her feelings every time Olivia said ugly things and blamed her for the divorce, letting them fester, and it’s time to dredge them up and time for Olivia to stop acting like a petulant child.
I hand Mom a napkin, and she wipes at her bloodshot eyes. When Olivia doesn’t say anything in response, Mom sighs and says, “I’m going to go apologize to Marvin and Noah, and we can go home. I guess it’s too soon for this.”